I didn’t pay much attention to where I was going so of course, I got lost. I noticed a few familiar portraits but they were next to unfamiliar faces so I assumed that some pictures were hung in more than one area. That or this family just like wasting money on similar looking pictures. The unfamiliar faces looked a bit like my father, maybe his parents? One of them shared his dark blue hair and the other had his blue eyes. They were both pale skinned with the woman looking a bit tan. Their faces were young but judging by the small amount of dust on the bottom of the frame this was not a recent picture. I walked a bit further down the hallway before I found a picture of the woman. She was even younger and sitting on top of a horse. She was smiling in a way that almost seemed mischievous. She was also holding a carrot behind her back which was probably why the horse seemed to be turning its head. A bit further I found the man again, his dark blue hair looking darker than ever. He wore a light blue suit and he was standing next to the woman who was wearing a long white dress. Watching the portraits felt a bit like reading a story out of order. I walked on. Opening a door at random brought me to a room full of bookshelves. It was tall, or well, taller than me. It was also filled with heavy looking books and most of the covers were brown. As far as I could see some of the top books had a light layer of something that vaguely looked like dust. The titles were mostly legible except for a few that were in a language I could not even begin to decipher. As I was looking at the covers, a voice sounded from my left.

“What are you doing here?”

Sounded like my father, so I turned and made a small curtsey.

“I was looking at the books, am I not allowed?” Honestly would probably be the best strategy here but I probably should have started with how I had gotten lost.

There was a pause.

“No, no, you can.” 

The voice sounded odd, if I didn’t know better I would think he was stifling a laugh.

“Do we have any books on healing?” I asked conversationally.

Another pause.

“We do, but it is not a magic anyone we know can currently practice.” My father stepped out from behind one of the bookshelves.

“Why not?” I asked. 

“It is a very difficult magic to perform. It requires years of practice and not many people are strong enough to even attempt it. Messing up a spell of healing could cost one their life.” He explained patiently.

I nodded.

Sounds about right. With a description like that, it sounded like there had to be someone, maybe even the main character that could do that. It sounded like the best thing to make a character stand out. 

“Is this about your mother?” The man’s eyes narrowed.

“I went to see her today.” 

He must have heard from one of the servants because he did not seem all that surprised. 

“While you do seem to have strong magic, I don’t think it is enough-” he began but he stopped when he saw me nod. 

It was a good gauge for how strong Anastasia’s magic was. So she was strong but healing magic required more. 

“Can anyone do that?” I asked

He shook his head.

“I have been looking for months. If there was anyone, I would know. I heard many years ago it was easy for almost anyone but the strength of the magic that was passed on was less with every generation. Which is why strength like yours is rare but I fear it might not be enough.” he paused.

Magic in this world sure seemed odd. I guessed that the main character might be the only one that can use the rare magic. I could imagine her poor disgraced family regaining their status over something like that. It was either that or the fact that she married a prince. 

Maybe recognizing the conversation was over, father went back to a desk I had not even realized was there. It was half hidden by the bookshelves and covered in loose paper to the point I could barely see the top of the desk. He seemed to know where all the papers he needed were, though. I saw him a few times while I looked over the books, mutter something to himself and pick up a paper, usually under three other stacks. I probably spent more time watching him than actually reading. It was like watching a movie character but in a way more real than I realized when I first woke up here. I shook my head. What good will come out of relating to fake people?

 When it was time for dinner, the maid came to fetch me and I bid goodbye to the pile of paper hiding my father. The maid seemed to have mostly gotten over her anger. She was speaking to me in a tone that almost hid how much she hated me! She led me back to my room where I once again got to eat alone. As I was looking out the window and picking up small pieces of food with my bare hands, the maid suggested I look over my notes from magic lessons since I had a test coming up in a tone that barely hid her disgust. 

I dropped the handful of food back on the plate. The small piece of meat missed the plate and landed on the table. Why was she barely bringing it up if she felt the need to tell me my schedule every day. How was I barely hearing about a test the next day? Then again, hadn’t I been ignoring her every morning? She very well could have told me. 

I turned back to my food, picked up the piece on the table and ate it. The look on the maid’s face was so funny. I guess when I first woke up here I expected the food to be some mythical creature like dragon or elf but really the meat was the same as I would have had before I was Anastasia, maybe. Even thinking about my time before Anastasia made my brain feel foggy. Either way, the meat was just beef cut into small squares because clearly I am too stupid to cut my own meat and a side of what looked like asparagus. I picked up a meat square and looked at it. 

“I have notes? I don’t remember taking any notes in the last two lessons.”

“What are you talking about you have- I didn’t give you your notebook. I placed it-”

The maid turned and hurriedly began to look around. Finally from the top of the dresser she brought me a small pink notebook.

“Why was it up there?” I asked.

She looked affronted.

“You threw it up there!”

“And you didn’t bring it back? I can’t reach up there. I thought you were supposed to help me! What a bad maid! I should tell my father.”

I took the notebook ignoring the rage written all over her face. What are the odds she would strangle me in my sleep? 

Opening up the notebook I realized Anastasia hadn't bothered to take very good notes. She had made little drawings of what I assumed was her in poofy dresses and drew horses in the margins.  

Needless to say it did not take me much time to extract the useful information out of the pitiful notes. I kept leafing through them while I thought about what my father had said about healing magic. The beginning of a plan was starting to take shape in my mind. 

The main character was more than likely a magic user and if my hunch was right, they were strong enough to use healing magic. If that was the case, my mother would not have to die! Does she die in the original story? The person who told me about the novel would know. Why wasn't she transported into the story instead of me? Maybe she wasn't in the car with me, she could even be looking at my dead body right now. 

Right on cue, I felt my attention being forced to the notes in front of me. Every time my mind starts to stray to the time before the novel…

I saw the shape of a person from my window followed by the smaller shape. The man and the boy were back. I watched them enter the garden from inside the house. Did they also live here? I set down my notes and walked over to the window to watch them. Something about the man was familiar. I'd recognize those stupid robes anywhere! It had to be the magic teacher and the boy in front of him had the same hair color as him. He was also wearing robes. What part of magic were they learning that required swords and why wasn't I learning it. 

Fascinated, I watched them until it was time to go to sleep. How many days had it been, 3 or 4? I yawned. That test… how hard could it possibly be?